


12 Days of Parkner Christmas

by impravidus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Baking, Banter, Board Games, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Halmark Movies, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Parkner Secret Santa 2019, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Scrabble, Shopping, Sledding, Snow, Snowball Fight, Song - Freeform, Spa Treatments, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21954826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus
Summary: “You’re a dork,” Harley said, looking down bashfully to hide his goofy smile.“You love me.”“Yeah. I do.”Follow Peter and Harley in their domestic wintery adventures in their own 12 Days of Parkner Christmas!
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Harley Keener
Comments: 16
Kudos: 132





	12 Days of Parkner Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imposterhuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/gifts).



> The song is actually an original song, not just copy and pasted link to a pre-existing song, so please click it if you actually want to listen to it!

“You fucking imbicile. How can you call yourself a mechanical engineer? These pillows aren’t grounding these blankets down at all. You have to use the couch cushions. Fuck fuck it’s falling! This is all your fault.”

Harley and Peter sat underneath their king-size fleece blanket on the carpeted floor of their apartment

“Come on, Peter. This is supposed to be fun. Nostalgic.”

“It would be more fun if you made it right,” Peter huffed.

“Then you take the reins. Show me how it’s done,” he responded playfully.

He huffed. “I will.” As he began to crawl out from under the blanket, Harley wolf-whistled. “Not funny.”

“Your ass is just so nice. Can’t help it.”

He hid his smile. “Fuck off.” He clapped his hands. “Okay, first things first, you don’t make it in front of the couch. You make it behind it.”

Harley raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, is that so?”

“And then you get chairs from the dining room and books to anchor the other side. Pique architecture.”

“Ah. I see.” Harley headed to the kitchen as Peter continued to ramble about the physics of it all and began to start a pot of milk on the stove.

As Peter finally finished up, Harley handed him a hot mug of hot chocolate.

“Here you go, sir. Hot chocolate with brandy, topped with whipped cream, chocolate shavings, marshmallows, and caramel drizzle, just the way you like it.”

Peter smiled. “You spoil me, Mr. Keener.”

“It’s the holiday season.” They clinked the ceramic mugs together and began to sip as they sat under their blanket castle.

.-~*~-.

“God, what do I even get for Happy? It’s been five years since him and May got married, and each year it gets harder to get him a gift. Like he literally has no hobbies. I got him a cooking set last year, a custom leather wallet the year before, new whiskey glasses before that, I mean, these are basic, generic gifts for older adult male in your life. But like, he does nothing. He doesn’t golf, he doesn’t particularly watch any sports, he doesn’t crotchet or paint or even really watch any TV unless it’s May’s shows. What do you get a man who doesn’t do anything?”

“Well, he cooks a lot, right?” Harley asked.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, hence the cooking set.”

“And he likes to eat, right?” 

Peter nodded slower. “Yeah…”

“Spices. And assorted flavored nuts from around the world. My mama loves when I get her new spices, and my Pop-Pop loved assorted nuts. He couldn’t eat ‘em around Abby but he snacked on nuts constantly.”

“Do you think Happy likes nuts?” Peter questioned.

“For some reason, old men just like eating raw nuts.”

The two were wandering the streets of Times Square, doing some last minute Christmas shopping.

“You have it so easy,” Peter stated.

“Oh, I do?” Harley asked, an amused smile on his lips.

“You can just get Abby art supplies and your mom knits _and_ cooks, so there’s just obvious things to get them,” Peter said, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

“You are right. Plus, Abby is not subtle at all when it comes to Christmas. She has a Pinterest board full of ‘inspiration’ for Mama and me. But, she’s never greedy about it. We come from nothing and she doesn’t lose sight of our privilege that we have as adults.”

Peter smiled. “I know what that’s like.”

“Well of course you do, Mr. I Built A Science Empire From Nothing.”

“You flatter me,” Peter waved his hand.

“Well I should. I’m proud of you.” His eyes shone with adoration. He glanced in the Swarovski store window.

“Getting distracted by the pretty shiny diamonds, Harls?” Peter teased.

He nodded. “You know me. Love me some glitter.”

.-~*~-.

“This is a bad idea, Peter.”

“If there’s any hint of danger, I’ll sense it. Come on, please. Please please please. Pretty please.” He looked to him with the infamous puppy dog eyes that he only pulled out when he absolutely needed them.

“Okay. Fine. Fine! We can go sledding.”

And that is how the two ended up on the top of the nearest hill with two Captain America shield sleds. 

“This isn’t a good idea, Peter. Gravity doesn’t like me. I’m a tall guy with no sense of balance.”

“You’ll be fine! Come on. Come on, come on, come on! Let’s go!” Peter pulled Harley, not realizing his speed as he tugged too hard, sending Harley flying face first into the snow. Peter covered his mouth with his mittened hands. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. I didn’t… oop!” Harley pulled Peter to the ground with him, his light yet toned body falling on top of his. Peter blushed. “This is quite a scandalous position, Mr. Keener.” 

“It very well might be.” He took his gloved hand and cupped Peter’s tinted cheek, kissing him softly. 

Peter giggled into the kiss. “C’mon. There’s a perfectly good sledding hill calling your name. Harley!” He wailed. “It is me! The sledding hill! I long for your sled to slide atop my snow!”

“You’re a dork,” Harley said, looking down bashfully to hide his goofy smile.

“You love me.”

“Yeah. I do.”

.-~*~-.

“Is it supposed to look like this?”

Harley glanced over at Peter’s royal icing, or at least, what was supposed to be royal icing. “Darlin’, did you not do the seven second test?”

“It’s uh, it’s been longer than seven seconds.” Peter’s bowl had a thick, powdery paste, instead of a smooth icing. 

“Here, let me add some more water.” Eyeballing it perfectly, Harley fixed the proportions with ease.

“How do you do that? Just know what to add?”

Harley laughed. “It took years.” The oven beeped. “Can you get those?” Harley turned around but whipped back to face Peter, panic evident on his face. “ _With the oven mitts!”_

“Right. Oven mitts.” He slipped them on and pulled out the tray of gingerbread men. “Can I have one?”

“They’re fresh out of the oven. You’ll burn your tastebuds off.”

“They’ll regenerate,” Peter mumbled.

.-~*~-.

“Do _not_ put the carrot down there!”

Peter looked up like a deer in the headlights to face the disappointed Harley.

“There are kids around, Peter. Be a good role model.”

Peter pouted. “I _am_ a good role model,” he grumbled. “I’m Spider-Man.”

Harley grabbed his mittened hands and kissed his forehead. “I’m just joshing you, Parker.”

“I know,” he said with a sly smile. With a quick motion, he took a handful of snow and dumped it on his neck.

Harley writhed in shock from the cold. “You! You little…” he picked up a handful of snow and chucked it at his face, which he easily dodged. “You have an unfair advantage,” he complained.

“Can’t get rid of it, can I?” Peter said, teasingly.

“Well you know what that means,” Harley said, ominously.

“No. I don’t know what that…” Harley formed a ball and grabbed him by the waist, shoving the ball in his face. 

Peter squirmed in his face. “This is no fun!” He leaned over quickly, throwing Harley into a flip over him, sending him into the snow. 

“Not funny,” Harley said with a slight groan.

“Are you okay?” Peter said, now concerned. He hurried to his boyfriend, worry laced in his eyebrows.

“I will be.”

Another handful of snow smashed into his face.

“That was cheating!”

“Nothing is cheating in the lawless lands of snowball fights!” Harley declared.

The both laughed as they plopped back-first into the snow. 

“I bet I can make a better snow angel than you!” Peter challenged.

“Oh? Is that so?” Harley asked.

“Mhm.” He stood up and scanned the ground for the perfect spot. “Ah!” He laid down and stiffly moved his arms and legs as much as he could with the four layers of clothes he had.

Harley stood up and gave a thumbs down. “Weak! Four out of ten.”

“Now _you_ have an unfair advantage. You don’t feel cold,” Peter pouted.

“Who needs snow angels when I have my own right here?” 

Peter blushed. “Aw Har…” Another ball of snow in his face.

.-~*~-.

“It may not be a fireplace, but at least it’s warm and cozy.” 

Peter and Harley sat criss-cross at the radiator, bundled up in sherpa blankets and fuzzy sweaters.

“This is the epitome of New York apartment culture,” Peter explained. “You southern folk would never understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand. I’m too used to the luxury of settin’ logs on fire in the backyard.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay outdoorsman. Gotta flex on your ability to have a backyard.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just sayin’ it how it is.” He draped his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “But there were some things Tennessee had that I don’t have here in New York.”

“Oh, really? What’s that?”

He pretended to think. “Well we didn’t have the wonderful traffic the way you have here, unless it was Bring Your Tractor to school day.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I see. What else?”

“We didn’t have deli cats or Thai places that were a coverup for a drug cartel or carts that only sell ‘garbage plates.’” 

“Those are indeed New York delicacies.”

“And I didn’t have you back in Tennessee.”

Peter looked down bashfully. “Flirt.”

“I’ve gotta to keep you invested in a boring ol’ Tennessee man like me.”

“I’ll never get bored of you.”

.-~*~-.

“Did you know that there’s a Spider-Man Christmas special?”

Peter looked up from his book. “There is?”

“Wait, you actually don’t know? That was rhetorical more than anything. Don’t they need your consent to make those films?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t really know, actually. It’s not like I’m trademarked as a figure. I’m kind of just a celebrity at this point.”

“Well now we have to watch them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Them? There’s more than one?”

Harley nodded. “Yeah, there’s a few actually.”

The two men snuggled under their blankets on their couch and pulled up the first film. _An Avenger-ous Christmas._

“Not the most clever play on words, but I’ll allow it,” Peter said.

This particular film was animated featuring Avengers ranging from the OG 6 to the new generation. 

“I like the voice they gave me. Made me sound much more masculine than I actually am,” Peter stated.

The plot was simple, just a Christmas special for kids where the Avengers all disappear on Christmas Eve and it’s up to Spider-Man to find them with the aid of Santa and his elves. Cheesy but cute.

The second one was a _Home Alone_ inspired story with Spider-Man in the Avengers Tower fighting bad guys with traps on Christmas. 

“Is it bad that I kinda wish this actually happened?” Peter asked.

“You could totally make these traps. You’re a boss at Rube Goldberg machines,” Harley pointed out.

“Yeah. Those were my thing in elementary school.” Peter sighed dreamily.

The third one was a shitty Halmark movie based on the speculations of civvie Spider-Man off of the information he had given in interviews (most of which were fake.)

The black haired, dark skinned, strong jawed man revealed as he pulled off his terribly constructed Spider-Man costume made Harley and Peter burst out into laughter. His voice was almost a perfect replica of the modulated voice Peter usually had on his suit to mask his distinct, high pitched voice.

Harley and Peter cringed as “Miles Morales” fell in love with blonde haired, drummer “Gwen Stacy.”

“She’s not even my type!” Peter exclaimed.

Harley turned to face his boyfriend. “And what _is_ your type?”

“You.”

.-~*~-.

“Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid biomedical engingeering degree.”

“Excuse me, it was a biomedical and chemical double major.”

Harley glared at the Scrabble board where Peter had changed Harley’s “rap” to “brachytherapy.” “This is fucking ridiculous. This can’t be allowed.”

“It’s not my fault that you have the vocabulary of a seven year old.”

“I’ll have you know that this seven year old is on the brink of revolutionizing the eco-friendly and cost-efficient automobile of the century,” Harley rebutted.

Peter chuckled softly. “Fine, fine. You’ve got me there.”

“It’s my turn.” Harley stemmed from Peter’s “heptanone” with “horse.”

.-~*~-.

“You are not touching my feet, Peter.”

“It’s a foot mask. It has to go on your foot."

“I can put on the mask.”

“It’s a free foot massage. Just let me do it, and then you can soak your feet.”

“Oh great, submerging my feet. What are we doing it in? My favorite tupperware?”

“No, just in the sink.”

“We have a bathtub for a reason, Peter.”

“Well we are going to sit on the counter and submerge our feet in this lovely small bath of warm water when we are done with our feet mask.”

“Do I have to?”

“You’ve got a lot of stress with the end of the fiscal year coming up. Just let me pamper you.” He handed him a glass of red wine. “And, your dry ass feet rub against my legs when we spoon and it’s not enjoyable.”

“Fine. What else is in your bag of tricks?”

“I’ve got an avocado face mask, honey hair mask, sugar scrub for your body, and a big box of gourmet chocolates.” He grabbed his glass and clinked it with Harley’s. “And, once we’re done, there’s a nice bubble bath ready for us.”

“Us?” Harley asked with a raised brow, now interested.

Peter nodded, smirking. “But you’ll have to wait for that.”

.-~*~-.

The two were snuggled up on the couch, Peter’s head resting on Harley’s shoulder. 

“Hey, darlin’? I uh, I have somethin’ for you,” Harley said, anxiety evident in his voice.

“You do?” Peter asked, eyes filled with curiosity.

“I actually uh, it’s not really something I can give to you.” He pulled out his phone. _((if you want to listen along, do so_ [ _now_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zbi2qktq9I) _))_ “So I uh,” he chuckled nervously, “I wrote this for you.” He took a deep breath in and whispered, “okay, here we go,” and pressed a button on his phone, and a lovely piano backing track began to play.

_Hands intertwined_

_Lights on the pine_

_Snowy nights_

_Hot cocoa by the fire_

_Moonlight shining with the stars_

_Singing carols with delight_

_Evergreens and endless dreams coming true_

_Family with you and me looking forward to_

_Holidays_

_Pushing your cares away_

_Winter time_

_Snowflakes falling from the sky_

_Milk and cookies and apple pie and you_

_Multi-colored bulbs_

_Shining on the snow_

_Tinsel and ornaments_

_Mittens and bulky jackets_

_No one’s roasting chestnuts over the fire_

_But who needs chestnuts when you’re in my life?_   
  


_It’s a holiday_

_We’re pushing our cares away_

_Winter time_

_Snowflakes from the sky_

_Milk and cookies and apple pie_

_Jingle bells and long sleigh rides and you_

Peter eyes were glistening as he smiled. “That was beautiful.”

“So are you,” Harley responded, almost automatically.

Peter placed his cold hand on Harley’s cheek and leaned in slowly. Harley, however, pulled him in quickly, needing his lips on his immediately. He felt Peter smile in the kiss and he smiled too.

.-~*~-.

Peter and Harley quietly finished their Broccoli Sunshine with Rice and and Orange Chicken with Loi Mein as their Christmas playlist played softly in the background.

Peter was practically vibrating in his seat from excitement.

“You alright, darling?” Harley asked.

“I’m just excited for your Christmas Eve presents,” Peter said, trying not to spill too much. Rather than his big secret, he wasn’t the best at keeping little secrets. His PR team was not happy with him spilling the details of his newest project on cell regeneration.

“Okay. Then you are definitely going first.”

Peter groaned. “No! You can’t do this to me!”

“If your gift is so awesome, then it has to be the big finale,” Harley reasoned.

“Fine.”

They went to the couch and grabbed their respective gifts. It was tradition in the Keener family on Christmas Eve that each person gets a gift the night before, an ornament to add to the tree.

Peter opened the small box and let out a hearty guffaw. “You can’t be serious. Really?” He pulled out [ an ornament of Santa doing a yoga pose. ](https://www.kohls.com/product/prd-3774287/festively-flexible-santa-yoga-2019-hallmark-keepsake-christmas-ornament.jsp?skuid=43047975&ci_mcc=ci&utm_campaign=HALLMARK%20X-MAS&utm_medium=CSE&utm_source=google&utm_product=43047975&CID=shopping15&utm_campaignid=196833932&pid=googleadwords_int&af_channel=CSE&gclid=CjwKCAiAis3vBRBdEiwAHXB29EHBUAXaMFWiBpR5QLvcMWIE8Lzf4Sq6Kb4xOS6b4YGionUpwXhwORoCci8QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds)

“Your obsession with morning yoga has been a major plot point for our year.”

“It’s good for my Spider-Manning!” 

“Yeah yeah.” He looked down to his box. “My turn?”

He nodded.

Harley took his time examining the box, pulling at the bow, until he finally opened the box and groaned. “Really? _Really?_ This is just rude. I am offended.” He held up the [ passport ornament ](https://www.ornamentshop.com/travel-passport-christmas-ornament-p8775?utm_source=googlebase&utm_medium=prodfeed&utm_term=&utm_content=213&utm_campaign=specific&site=google_product_listing_ads&gclid=CjwKCAiAis3vBRBdEiwAHXB29DwxXw_sZ9ZONXNqznir2iGBnACjaAJSKpYXyjXFkM2o5TfLoIE71hoCcxAQAvD_BwE) with an over-exaggerated expression. “You lose your passport _one time_.”

“When it’s to go to the biggest science convention of the whole world of the century and you make me take you on my personal Avengers quinjet, yes, I bring it up.”

“Whatever,” he said with a playful eyeroll. “Now, come on. We’ve got some Christmas cookies to eat.”

.-~*~-.

Sitting criss-cross at the Christmas tree, Peter smiling brightly at Harley. Between the two, Harley had given Peter: five new sweaters made from the fluffiest and softest materials he could find, a homemade “date night ideas” jar including options like “drive with no destination” and “go to the mall and pick outfits for each other,” [ a "Spooderman" t-shirt ](https://www.redbubble.com/people/jonazas/works/37811968-spooderman?cat_context=all-departments&grid_pos=30&p=t-shirt&rbs=bb690411-59aa-4cd6-996a-169316b89d86&ref=shop_grid&style=longsleeve&searchTerm=funny%20spiderman), hearing aid like devices designed to block out all sound except for whatever he puts in it (including an option of nothing), a Swarovski engraved multitool (Peter laughed very hard at this one), and a set of Star Wars mugs.

For Harley, Peter got: a new wallet (because he hasn’t gotten a new one since he moved in with him which was four years prior), a coffee flask to satisfy his caffeine addiction, ridiculous Spider-Man underwear that hadn’t been released to the public yet, a new blue flannel (because his current one had holes in it and oil stains that wouldn’t come out), a crockpot (that Harley had been hinting at for years), a fancy salt sampler and the highest quality knife he could get his hands on.

“I love you,” Peter said simply as he placed a soft kiss on Harley’s lips.

“I have one more gift,” he said.

“You do?” Peter asked curiously.

Harley got down on one knee. Peter gasped, hand shooting up to his mouth. “Peter Benjamin Parker, you are an enigma. When I first met you, you were so put together, I thought, “Man. I’ve got no chance with this hot piece of ass that’s also a smart piece of ass. Too smart for me.” So, when I went to go woo you—”

“Oh, wooing, is that what you were doing?” he interrupted, holding back tears of joy.

“Shush, this is my story. And so I’m walking over to this absolute hottie, my hair gelled back, my good smart person glasses on, and just went I’m about to tap this gorgeous gift bestowed on Earth, he turns around and spills his shirley temple all over my white suit.”

Peter covered his face, embarrassed.

“Now don’t hide that pretty face. I’ve got more. So, as I was frozen and shocked from the ice going down my chest and the Greek God who was staring at me, that I didn’t have enough time to process who you were before going, “you’re the metabolism guy, right?” Which just, what a horrific, fanboy way of introducing yourself. But you didn’t mind, and were much more worried about my suit than my awkward blubbering about your thesis.

“But, thank God that you spilled that drink on me, because we spent the next hour chatting in the men’s bathroom at that boring gala and every little thing I learned, I fell more and more in love with. And Peter? Every single day, I find something else to fall in love with. I’ve fallen in love with your compassion, the way that you make me bagel sandwiches for lunch and always put a rolo in my bag after long lab nights. I’ve fallen in love with your tenacity, the way that you spent your free day trying to build me a bookshelf while I was at a conference, even though you don’t understand Ikea furniture despite being a world renowned engineer.”

“Hey!”

“I’ve fallen in love with your dedication, the way that you never give up on any person, any project, anything. The way you remember every patient that gets treatment with your tech and always know little facts about every one of your employees.” He grabbed his hand. “But most of all, I’ve fallen in love with the little things. I’ve fallen in love with the way you load the dishwasher, bopping to the music and always putting the spoons on the right. I’ve fallen in love with the way you mindlessly wiggle your toes while you sit and watch TV. I’ve fallen in love with that you hold May’s hand when you go down stairs and the way you surprise me at the lab with Oreo milkshakes and the way you fluff your pillow before you go to sleep. I love everything about you. The flaws, the hurt, the good, the great, the everything.

“So, I know it’s usually five golden rings, but I hope you’ll accept just this one.” He opened the velvet box. “Peter, will you marry me?”

Peter nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes of course I’ll marry you!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed and had a happy holidays! If you want to chat, my Tumblrs are official-impravidus, incorrectirondadquotes, and badmcufanficideas!


End file.
